


Clothes Make the Man

by pervyfangirl



Series: The Hero and the Quartermistress [1]
Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Blow Jobs, Clothing Disparity Kink, Clothing Kink, F/M, Kissing, POV Second Person, Size Kink, Tailoring, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-24 16:16:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7514878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pervyfangirl/pseuds/pervyfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just where did the infamous yellow jacket, black shirt, and tight pants come from, anyway?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Before the Ceremony

**Author's Note:**

> I swore I wasn't going to do this again so soon, but then [thetaoofzoe](http:.//thetaoofzoe.tumblr.com) has a very wicked and enabling mind, and gave me a prompt, so here I am.

Being a quartermaster’s assistant maybe isn’t the most glamorous job in the Rebel Alliance, but someone’s got to make sure that the people who do the more glamorous jobs have uniforms that fit, boots that don’t have holes in them, charges for their weapons. You might not be able to shoot straight, but you can sew, and you can salvage a garment from damn near scraps into something useable. 

The base on Yavin 4 is torn between tension and celebration right now: celebration that Yavin 4 is still in one piece and the Death Star isn’t, but tension because everyone knows you’ll be evacuating soon. The Empire knows you’re here now, so it’s time to move. Everyone is talking about the battle. Who survived, who didn’t. And who the hell this kid from Tatooine is, who showed up from out of nowhere and saved everyone’s asses at the last second. 

The rumors are wild. He’s a Jedi who’s been in hiding for years. He’s a secret weapon that the Princess has been saving for just such a desperate hour. He’s a charlatan. He’s just stupidly lucky. 

You could tell them that none of them remember their history. You’re not old enough to remember the Clone Wars, of course, but your mother did, and she told you stories as a kid, about the Jedi, about their army, and the same two names came up over and over again: Skywalker and Kenobi, two Jedi generals who seemed to be the ones leading every charge. It can’t be coincidence that the hero of Yavin bears one of those names, or that there’s a rumor that General Kenobi himself survived right up until he came face to face with the Empire’s monster on the Death Star.

But if the Princess and her advisors aren’t talking about that, you’re not going to either. Skywalker has a big enough target on his back already, without stories going around that he’s related to a famous Jedi. You’ve survived this long by keeping your head down and doing your job.

Speaking of doing your job, you hear a voice from the front part of the storeroom. “Hello?”

You put down your inventory list and go see who it is.

Damn. _Damn._ You probably should have expected this. All of the new recruits wind up in your storeroom eventually but… 

You’ve only seen Luke Skywalker from a distance before now. You were in the crowd in the hangar bay when the few surviving X-wing pilots came back, part of the yelling, cheering throng as he jumped out of his ship and was scooped up by his friends. That didn’t prepare you. At all.

Luke is shorter than you expected, maybe a little bit shorter than you are, but the unconscious charisma of his overlong blond hair and bright blue eyes is almost enough to knock you back on your heels. 

He smiles and it’s like getting hit by a sunbeam. “Hi… I’m supposed to come see you about some clothes. I’m—”

You laugh. “Oh I know who you are. Everyone knows who you are. Thank you, by the way, for saving my life.”

He blushes, and the knockback effect gets even worse. Damn. You suspect everyone would be talking about him even if he weren’t everyone’s savior. 

You give him your name and beckon for him to follow you into the storeroom. “What exactly do you need? Am I getting you a uniform yet, or…?”

“Well…” He rubs the back of his head, looking sheepish. “There’s that ceremony tonight. And I left home in sort of a hurry.” He gestures at his clothes, which to your practiced eye, aren’t his at all—everything is too big, hanging off his slender frame. “I’d say all I have is this, but this isn’t even mine. The clothes I showed up in… I think Leia had them incinerated.” He laughs at your expression. “It’s a long story.”

“You’re definitely not the first recruit to show up with nothing,” you reassure him, already mentally going through what you have, and what might fit him. You circle him, looking him up and down to gauge sizes, but honestly it makes a great excuse. Even with those awful, baggy clothes, you can tell that dressing him is going to be a pleasure. 

You try to haul in your wayward thoughts. “The first thing we should do is make sure you have something to wear tonight. Can’t have you standing up in front of the whole Alliance in that, no offense.”

“None taken. Like I said, they’re not mine.” He grins at you and you feel the first little tingle at the back of your neck. Oh no, the last thing you need is a crush on probably the single most eligible pilot on the whole damned base. 

You study him a moment more, taking in his coloring: the tanned skin, fair hair, and again those blasted hypnotic eyes, and you have an idea. Warm colors. Definitely warm colors. “Wait right here.”

There’s a flight jacket here somewhere, one that’s been too small for most of the pilots who’ve come through your doors. It’s a bright sunshiny yellow that should suit Luke just fine, now where is it… Aha!

You bring it back to him. “Try this on?”

“It’s very bright,” he says, taking it from you anyway. His fingers brush yours, and you resolutely ignore the little spark that tries to shoot up your arm. 

“I have some bad news for you,” you say, watching him shrug into the jacket. “Everyone’s going to be looking at you no matter what you’re wearing.”

“I know,” he says, and pulls an adorable face, his nose wrinkling. 

“You’ll be great.” The jacket suits him, but it’s a little big. If you had more time, you could adjust the sleeves, but it might have to do. Now what to put under it…

You have taken measurements for countless humans and a fair number of other species as well, but you’ve never had your hands tremble before. Standing so close to him, touching his arms, his chest, his neck, it’s a struggle to maintain your professional composure. You do your best not to meet his eyes as you’re measuring his waist, sure he can see the flush of your cheeks. 

He laughs, and he sounds almost nervous. “I didn’t realize getting dressed was so much work. Back home we just wanted clothes that were loose and not too hot.”

“I don’t think I can manage ‘not too hot’ for you, sorry.” It comes out before you can stop it. “I mean, we don’t exactly have much here that’s suitable for a desert planet.” It’s a flimsy recovery, and you mark down the data you have before moving on to measuring him for his pants.

Except that was a mistake. The minute you drop to your knees in front of him, you hear a small intake of breath from him, one that matches the thought that flashed through your mind as well. The little tingle at the back of your neck is traveling down your spine, heading right for your gut, where it blossoms into a ball of heat. You start talking rapid fire, anything to distract yourself.

“It’s a shame your old clothes got incinerated. I probably could have salvaged something from them. If you want, I can keep an eye out for anything from Tatooine from my sources. A lot of people like to dress the way they did at home when they can.”

“You don’t have to do that for me.” His voice is unsteady as you try to focus your attention on measuring the length of his leg from his waist to the floor, all too conscious of your hand smoothing the measuring tape down his thigh.

“Oh I don’t mind.” You risk a glance up and find him watching you intently, far too intently for a man having his pants fitted. “I mean,” you fumble to continue, “it’s the least I can do. You saved me.”

 _If there’s anything else I can do, just ask me_. You barely bite it back in time, but oh, you think it. 

People get twitchy when you measure their inseam. More than once you’ve had people who’ve had to deal with a little bit of inappropriate arousal. It’s just part of the job and it doesn’t mean anything. You ignore it and pretend you didn’t notice. 

It’s impossible not to notice this time. The moment your hand brushes the inside of his thigh he twitches, a quiver running through his legs. 

“Sorry,” you murmur. “I’ll be quick.”

“No, it’s okay.” His voice is tight and strained. It’s anything but okay. No one has ever responded this strongly to you doing your job before, and it takes every bit of your self control to stay professional. When you move to stand up, he offers you a hand and touching him is simultaneously the worst and the best idea you’ve ever had. His hand is strong and calloused and warm, and all you can think is how badly you want him to keep touching you. But this is not the time or the place, and a man who has his pick of the whole Alliance isn’t going to look twice at you, surely.

Trying to pull together an outfit is a welcome distraction from considering the man who’s going to be wearing it. You feel his eyes on you like a tangible weight as you move from storage bin to storage bin. He asks where you’re from, how you wound up with the Alliance. He seems to be genuinely interested, and the cynical side of you wonders how long that will last in the face of all the acclaim he’s about to receive. 

Still, it’s flattering. Finally you find what you were looking for. It’s a simple black shirt with a v-neck, he doesn’t need anything elaborate to be stunning. Anything more would just draw attention away from his face. You really have to stop thinking about his face. The pants are Corellian and probably small enough—if not, you’re going to have a very busy morning trying to take them in.

“I need you to try these on, please.”

Luke looks around for somewhere to change and you try to keep from smiling. “I can turn my back, if you want,” you say.

He nods, and you turn, a little disappointed. Apparently the modesty conventions on Tatooine are stricter than some planets. The sound of him undressing is absolute torment. Your self-control reserves are draining rapidly, but you manage to keep from turning around. That would be rude of you, even if it might be worth it. 

“Okay,” he says.

You turn around. Oh _hell_. On the one hand, your professional eye sees several places where the shirt needs taking in, the better to hug his narrow waist, to follow the curves up to his shoulders. The pants are definitely too long, and the waist needs taking in there as well. But the non-professional part of your brain absolutely wants to eat this boy alive. For a moment you consider finding something less flattering to put on him. Stand him up in front of the Alliance like this and you just might cause a riot. 

“What do you think?” he asks, turning in a circle. The smile on his face when he comes back to the front isn’t nearly as shy or innocent as you were expecting—you gave something away and he spotted it. 

You try to moisten your lips with your tongue, but your mouth has gone dry. “Good. It needs a little work, but I think I have time.”

But then, you have to get close to him again, to mark and pin what needs to be taken in, running your hands down his back and over his waist to check the fit of the shirt. His breathing is definitely uneven, but then, yours is too. You come around the front of him and work on pinning the side of the shirt. 

He says your name in a hoarse-edged whisper and you look up to find his eyes fixed on your face. You can’t look away. Or maybe it’s just that you don’t want to look away. You absolutely cannot deny what that look on his face means. He wants you. Luke wants you.

You can’t deny the way your body responds either, heat flooding you from head to toe. “Do you want me to stop?” You mean measuring, of course. What else could you mean?

“Don’t stop,” Luke says, and one corner of his mouth quirks up. “I don’t want to interrupt your work.”

Somehow you manage to finish measuring and pinning without stabbing either of you with your pins—which, given the tremor in your hands, is a small miracle. Finally you step back away from him, feeling as flushed and hot as if you’ve been kissing someone for hours, when in truth he hardly touched you. 

“Be careful taking things off,” you say. “The pins.” You turn around without looking at him, half wondering what you’ll see when he tells you to turn around. In the few seconds it takes, you manage to spin an elaborate fantasy where he tells you to turn around and he’s gloriously, beautifully naked—and you both figure out just how fast you can break every possible rule about the quartermaster’s office.

Alas, when you turn around, he’s dressed in his borrowed clothes again, but his cheeks are pink. He hands you the new clothes.

“Thanks. I’ll get to work on these.” You clear your throat, unsure where to look. 

“When should I come back for them?”

“Oh—I can… I can bring them by your quarters, if you want?” Your eyes snag on his. Is that realization you see there, or is it just wishful thinking?

“Thanks. That would—I’d like that.”

After he’s gone, it takes you far too long to calm down enough to start altering the clothes. 

It ends up being a rush job, but with the ceremony that evening, there’s not much you can do about it. Most people will be seeing him from a distance anyway, and if they’re like you, they’ll be too distracted by that pretty face and the lean lines of his body to notice an uneven seam.

Your belly is all a-flutter as you walk through the wide, cool corridors of the base toward the pilot quarters. You’re going to miss Yavin, wherever you end up going, but this is your third ‘secret base’ so far, so you’re getting used to it.

Finally you reach the door to Luke’s quarters—like all the pilots, he initially shared them, but so many pilots were lost in the attack, they’re his alone for now. 

You knock, but there is no answer. You can’t just leave the clothes in the hallway, so after a few moments of indecision, you try the door. It’s open, and Luke is nowhere to be seen. Disappointed, you decide to just leave the clothes on his bed and leave. Maybe you’ll see him tonight, after the ceremony.

That’s when you hear the sound of water rushing in the ‘fresher. (One of the biggest advantages of the Yavin base: real water showers.) Before you can fully process the meaning of that, there’s another sound: a softly keening moan. The sound goes straight to the core of you and you have to fight from answering with one of your own. 

You should go. For all you know, he’s not alone in there. Maybe he found another willing partner along the way, and even if he didn’t, you have no business standing here listening—

Luke moans again, a little louder, breathy and desperate. Then he gasps a word. One word. Your name. 

You gasp in response, louder than you mean to, and the sounds from the other room stop. The water shuts off. “Hello?”

There’s time to flee, if you can just make your feet move, but you’re rooted to the spot. 

Luke appears in the doorway, dripping wet, a towel loosely held around his hips. It’s even better than the fantasy you concocted before. Who knew you’d be envious of a water droplet, you think, eyeing one as is slides slowly down his chest and belly.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer. “The door was unlocked. I wanted to make sure you had—” you gesture at the clothes.

When he takes a few steps toward you, your heart races in your throat. He stops in front of you, his teeth worrying at his lower lip before he says, “Maybe I should make sure it’s locked right now.”

You can’t stop staring at his mouth. “Maybe—maybe you should. Anybody could walk in.”

“I wouldn’t want anyone to walk in right now.” His eyes search yours. “So I should lock it?” That’s not what he’s asking, not when he’s standing there naked and wet in front of you, his eyes burning bright and the moaning sound of your name still reverberating in your mind.

“I can,” you say, and turn to do so. When you turn back, he’s followed you, and he backs you against the door, his mouth moving slowly, inexorably toward yours. 

It feels like hours before he finally kisses you. His mouth is soft until you slide your hand up around the back of his neck—then it’s as if you’ve given him permission, and his tongue teases its way into your mouth. You can’t hold back the moan as his arms go around your waist. Your clothes are getting wet from the shower water, but you don’t care. The feel of his body against yours is too good.

Wait. His hands. Around your waist. Which means the towel is…

He pulls you away from the door, and yes, the towel is beneath your feet as you pass. Your hand on his hip a moment later confirms it, the warm damp skin beneath your fingers. More than almost anything, you want to pull away to look at him, but his mouth is so sweet against yours you can’t bear to end the kiss.

Luke kisses along your jawline, moving to your ear. “We don’t have much time. Meet me after the ceremony tonight?”

“We have a little time. And it sounded like I was interrupting something important.” 

“You heard that?” He pulls back to look at you, his cheeks pink, endlessly charming. “Er… how much did you hear?”

You smile at him, and you know right then what you want to do, more than anything—because he’s right: there’s not much time. Not time enough for all the ways you want him to touch you, to taste you. But there is time enough to give him something to think about through the evening, something to whet your appetite even further. 

Plus, the look in his eyes when you knelt in front of him has been driving you mad all day. 

“I heard enough,” you say. You step back from him and finally get your first look at Luke’s naked body and it’s everything you imagined and more, everything you felt beneath your fingertips. Lean and narrow, compact with the muscle of someone who’s used to hard work and—oh. Not everything about him is small. You may have to reconsider the plans you were just making because there is no way that all of _that_ is going to fit in your mouth. 

But won’t it be fun trying?

The hunger that flares in his blue eyes when you go to your knees is worth everything, the gasp he makes is going to stay with you for a long, long time, undoubtedly fueling your alone time for weeks to come. The clean, soapy smell of his damp skin is almost as sweet as his kisses. You run your hands up his thighs, feeling the muscle there before leaning in and kissing each thigh gently. Luke sighs, and a glance up confirms that his eyes are riveted to you. Good. 

His cock is a little intimidating close up, long and full and jutting up against his belly. You trail your fingers over it and his skin is like silk. The temptation to kiss, to drag your mouth up the underside, is irresistible. Luke groans and you wonder how long it will take to make his knees give out. 

You tease him with kisses and licks as his breath comes faster and faster. You need one hand to hold him in place, but your other roams up the length of his body, playful little scratches down his back, your fingers curling around one nipple. Just when he’s shaking with need, you slowly take the head of his cock into your mouth. It’s almost too big, you have to be very careful of your teeth. 

Luke holds on to your shoulders as you eventually take him in both hands, stroking him because there’s just no way you’re going to take him all the way in.

The sounds he makes, those sounds are heaven. Soft gasps and groans, wordless, needy. Your name again. He’s tormenting you and doesn’t even know it. You’re already aching for his hands on your body, his fingers in your body. As much as you might want that right now, bringing him off instead, giving him the release you denied him by showing up in his room in the first place, and then making yourself wait for hours… you shiver at the thought of it. The idea of having to watch him all night, knowing what sounds he makes, knowing what he tastes like, but not knowing how it feels to have him… it’s heaven and hell all in one package, and exactly what you need. 

So you take him with your mouth, savoring the sounds of his pleasure as he gets closer to coming. At one point his hand leaves your shoulder and the sound muffles, as if he’s covering his mouth. Faster now. Your jaw is starting to ache but you can taste him and you want more. 

Luke grips your shoulder urgently. It’s a warning, but it’s not a warning you plan to heed. 

His cock jerks so hard it nearly pops out of your mouth, out of your hands. The muffled cries overhead get louder as he comes. You steady him with one hand on his hip, licking and stroking him until he pulls away with one last cry. He staggers, and winds up on his knees as well. Still making soft, mewling gasps, he catches your face between his hands and kisses you hard. He reaches for your clothes, but you stop him.

“Please. I need to see you. I need to touch you.” His eyes are such a beautiful, pleading blue that you almost relent, but you shake your head.

“After. Later tonight.” You smile, catching her bottom lip in your teeth. “I want to think about you all night. I want you to think about me.”

Luke laughs and pulls you into his arms. “All right, but if I wind up getting hard while they’re trying to pin a medal on me, I want you to know that it’s all your fault.”

“I will happily take the blame for that.” You’re taking a risk and you know it. There’s not going to be any shortage of offers coming his way tonight—you may end up going home alone. But somehow, given the way he’s looking at you, you don’t think the risk is that great. “Come on, let’s get you dressed.”


	2. After the Ceremony

You have just enough time to run and change for the ceremony yourself, into the uniform you hardly ever wear. A giddy sense of excitement radiates through you, like you’re constantly on the edge of bursting into giggles. You’re a little shocked at yourself, but also feeling more than a little pleased. 

The main hall is packed, but you manage to find a spot near your commanding officer, Dar. 

“You look happy,” she comments. “It’s not going to be that exciting, you know. Lot of fanfare.”

“Yeah, but then a party.”

Dar snorts. “This base has been one giant party for the past day and a half.”

A fanfare sounds and everyone snaps to attention, including you. The heroes of the hour march up the aisle and you can’t help but feel a bit smug. For as little time as you had to pull something together, Luke looks _good_. You stand a little taller. 

The ceremony is too far away for you to see much of it, and when it’s all over you cheer with the rest, and file out.

Now the only question is: did Luke mean what he said?

It isn’t hard to find him afterward, you just have to look for the densest portion of the crowd. You waver indecisively, whether to approach him, or wait to see if he approaches you. From the edges where you are, you can see him standing with his friends, laughing at something the smuggler says. The jacket is across the back of a nearby chair, abandoned in the heat of the room, and he’s tugged the shirt sleeves up. 

You weren’t wrong about the interest he’d receive. In the short time you watch, no fewer than four different people approach him with sidelong smiles and unspoken offers. Luke dodges them like blaster fire, so easily in most cases the would-be seducer doesn’t even realize they’ve been dodged. Every few minutes, you see him look around the crowd. He stops when he sees you, and breaks into a bright smile, waving you over.

Looks like he meant what he said.

That’s how you find yourself spending the evening with the closest thing the Alliance has to an inner circle. After introducing you to Leia (like you don’t know who _she_ is) and Han and Chewbacca, he links his arm with yours and keeps you by his side for the rest of the party. More than once you draw speculative glances, but you don’t know what it means any more than they do. But you laugh more than you have in ages, and burning at the back of your mind is the constant thought of what might come next. Every so often, Luke gives you a smile that suggests he’s thinking the same thing.

Finally at one point late in the evening, he puts down his cup and picks up the jacket. “I think I need some air. You wanna come with me?” he asks you. Bless him, it’s not the most subtle thing you’ve ever seen, and Leia and Han exchange glances.

“Sure,” you say, cheeks heating up.

“You kids have fun,” Han says cheerily, and Leia elbows him.

The Yavin night is mostly quiet, sounds of other celebrations going on across the base. Luke reaches for your hand. “We’ll be starting the evacuation tomorrow,” he says wistfully.

“You’ll get used to it,” you say. “Try not to get attached to any places, and you’ll be fine.”

“Do you mind if we walk a bit?” He glances over and smiles. “I wasn’t lying about needing some air.”

“Sure.” The jungles around the base are mostly cleared of anything dangerous. As you walk farther in, the noise from the base fades, leaving only the sounds of insects and night animals, and your feet on the jungle floor. 

“I started coming out here to think,” Luke says, as you reach the edge of a pond. “Still weird to see this much water in one place.”

“You seem to have caught on quick about showers.” You can’t resist teasing him, and he gives you a mock-glare, smile tugging at his mouth.

“That was your fault.” He turns to you, taking both of your hands in his. “A pretty girl spends the morning groping me, how else was I supposed to react?”

“I wasn’t groping you, I was doing my job.”

“Felt like groping to me.”

“I could tell.”

As you banter, you’re leaning closer to one another, until his lips are centimeters from yours and he says, “Either way, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Still can’t.”

You start to say ‘me either’, but before you can, his mouth is on yours, deep and searching. He pulls your arms around his waist, then reaches for you, cradling your head in his hands. You pull his body tight against yours, the slick heat of his tongue in your mouth making you shiver. Luke’s fingers slide into your hair and one of you makes a soft sound—it might’ve been you. His mouth leaves a damp trail over your cheek to your neck, and this time it’s for sure you that moans softly, the tease of his lips and teeth and tongue against your skin too much. As Luke holds on to your shoulders, you slide your hands down his back, reaching for the curve of his ass—which you had to spend the entire ceremony staring at wistfully. 

The kisses you exchange grow faster, more heated, your hands roaming up and down his back as he presses his hips against yours. You’re half-convinced the two of you are going to tumble to the ground at any moment. You’re not sure you mind. All evening you’ve watched him with the same low ache in your belly, the frustrated need that you left unsatisfied earlier. It flares back to life beneath his hands and his mouth.

Instead though, Luke pulls away from you, out of breath and flushed. “Come back to my room?”

You nod, a little dazed. Hand in hand you start back toward the base. On the way you pass several other revelers, all in varying stages of intoxication and/or lust. Aside from waving and a few yelling congratulations at Luke, no one is inclined to stop and talk. Everyone, it seems, is intent on chasing something tonight.

The hallways are quiet in the barracks; it’s still a little bit early. Luke only lets you go to unlock his door and let you in. Once the door closes, you look at each other a moment, anticipation in the air. 

“Do you want something to drink? If we were smart, we should’ve grabbed something from the party,” Luke says. 

You shake your head, and hold out a hand to him. Luke’s smile is sudden and warm. “So did you get what you wanted?” he asks, coming over and putting his arms around you. “You said you wanted to think about me all night. Did you?”

You laugh. “ _Everyone_ was thinking about you all night, so that’s probably not a fair question.” You glance up at him sidelong, and smile mischievously. “But I bet I was one of the only ones with a clear memory of what you look like naked. The rest were just wishing.”

“Funny, I was up there wishing I knew what you look like naked,” he murmurs, trailing his fingers up the front of your uniform shirt.

“I suppose if you really want to know…” 

“I really, really do.” His voice is low and sweet, his eyes burning into yours. You feel it all the way down to your toes. 

A little nervously, you step back and slowly start undressing. He follows your every movement, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Once you’re naked from the waist up, he lets out a long, slow breath. The look on his face as he meets your eyes, absolute raw hunger, makes you shiver. As you start to unfasten your pants, he says, “Let me.”

He kisses you almost reverently, his hands on your shoulders before running his palms down your upper arms, barely brushing the sides of your breasts. It’s a tease, like this whole evening has been a tease. 

Luke sinks to his knees in front of you, looking up at you with radiant eyes. He carefully pulls off your boots and socks before reaching for your pants. As you watch, he comes up on his knees and kisses your belly while his hands finish undressing you. Much as you did earlier, he runs his hands down your thighs before kissing each of them. His intent is clear and your knees start to shake. You gasp as he pulls you close, burying his face between your thighs. The teasing only gets worse at first, soft kisses against your lips, faint barely-there flickers of his tongue. The urge to grab him by the hair grows with each passing moment. 

He knows it too, to judge by the quiet chuckle you hear. “Go lie down?” he suggests, nuzzling at your thighs. You do and he follows after, pulling you toward the edge of the bed as he kneels on the floor once more, pulling one of your legs over his shoulder. 

The teasing stops. Mostly.

Luke spreads you open with his hands, his tongue tracing one burning line after another over you, getting near to your clit without ever actually touching it, holding you when you try to thrust against his mouth. The aching need is almost painful and when the flat of his tongue finally drags over your swollen clit you sit up with a cry, grabbing for his arm. 

“Does that mean I should stop?” He looks up at you, but from the glint in his eye, he knows that wasn’t what you meant.

“Don’t you dare stop. Please.” 

He doesn’t. It isn’t long before you’re squirming, grabbing at the bedcovers as if you’re trying to keep from flying away. It’s a little eerie, how well he reads your reactions and responds to them. Just as you’re ready to beg him to use his fingers, he does, sliding first one, then two into you. There is no long, slow build to orgasm, not after so much anticipation. It ramps up fast and hard, bursting through you and stealing your breath. Luke brings you down through it, slowing his pace and murmuring sweet words against your thighs. 

While you’re still recovering, he crawls up onto the bed and pulls you with him, settling you against his shoulder. Vaguely you’re aware, in your post-orgasmic haze, that he’s still dressed in his pants and shirt, the ones you chose for him, the ones you altered to fit him so perfectly. You should do something about that, at some point.

“You still in there?” he asks, amused.

“No. I think my soul left my body.” You lift your head to smile at him. 

“Tsk. That’s a shame. I had so many other ideas.” He kisses your hair, then your forehead, slowly moving down to your mouth. His touch is still gentle, but it could flare back to wildfire heat at any moment. “If you wanted to stay, that is.”

“I’d like that.”

Luke makes a low, contented sound, nudging you onto your back. “Then it sounds like we have all night.” He starts leaving a slow trail of kisses down your collarbone toward your breasts, the dark fabric of his shirt warm and soft against your body and you think—maybe you’ll let him keep his clothes on. For a little while longer, anyway.

Because you _do_ have all night...


End file.
